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Topic: How I learned to heart the bomb (Read 9812 times)

It happened in the year 2000, every man, women, and child went about their buisness as usual. Oblivious to the tragedy that would occur that day. As the World went about it's buisness, a bomb went of...In a nuclear weapons manufacturing plant in America. The reaction took out most of the west coast, leaving it as little more than scattered islands covered in radioactive dust. The east coast and most of North America died in the next few days from the radioactive fallout. Suspects were gathered around the world by America's former allies, and wars were started at the drop of hats. At the time of most needed peace, there was war and chaos. The world cried "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war.This country bombed that one, and other's bombed this and so on. The population of the world dropped from Six billion...to one billion in a matter of years. Slowly the recovery was made and life was slowly getting to the point that people could survive. Fifty years later, pockets of civilization grew, and scavengers lived off of what they could find. Factions have been formed, but no dominant government has been able to form. Several factions have been trying to gain power to no avail. One faction in particular has been trying to gain power, the Slarmanians, who have the dictator Larry Schienz as their leader. This band has been cruel and leaves little choice for humans they encounter, join and serve...or die. With such a small population, only a greatly organized plan to unite all humans on Earth together would help to rebuild their once great world. But as with all beginnings, greed and power hungry leaders arise, and create even more havoc and chaos. In this post apocalyptic world there are no laws, no rules, no enforcement to control what goes on, just people and their defensive natures.

This is the basic idea, all characters are scavengers, either alone or in a group. I'm not gonna have all of us be in one group or anything, but I want all the players to be somewhere in central europe. If you wish to lead a band of people, pm me first with your ideas of your numbers and equipment to be okay'd. Or you can go solo.

Follow my character's format.

Name: Gabriel

Age: 26

Physical Characteristics: Lean and taut, there is no room for fat or weight in Gabriel's life. Living as he has, his skin is dark and lined, scars showing here and there on most parts of his body. And yet his natural dexterity and grace have not been lost, only made greater by the strength and durability of his form. Dark blue eyes, with hair the color of light dirt. His clothes are a scavenged mix, thick black cargo pants, steel toed work boots, a plain t-shirt topped with a worn long sleeved one. The pistol is strapped to his right leg, ready to be drawn, his knife sitting horizontally across his front on the belt for an easy draw.

Equipment: Lock picks, random assortment of small tools (pliers, screwdriver, hex keys, small things like that, generally in pretty crappy condition) , utility knife (appx 3 inch blade, single edge, very sturdy, solid grip, unbalanced, made for work usage) personal knife (appx 4 inch blade, single edged, slight curve, finger notch at base, very sharp, very well kept, designed for self defense), assortment of small scavenged trinkets, SigSauer P226 handgun(German/Swiss gun, 15 9mm rounds, all light brown color, dual-stack magazine), one extra clip, small box containing appx 20 rounds of ammunition, light travel pack, made to fit well and not hinder movement of the wearer, and to balance out the load carried.

Abilities/skills: Gabriel has learned that with enough effort, and a bit of time, he can manage to get inside just about anything. His set of lock picks, both mechanical and electronic, are his most prize possessions, and he does everything possible to keep them in good repair. A very skilled scavenger, Gabriel knows how to find the best bits and pieces in the midst of seemingly nothing, for whatever needs. If it's there, he'll most likely find it. Survival is key when growing up in the wastelands. Nothing else matters. To include finding food, water, and shelter. And not to mention the ability to defend oneself. Not a warrior by any means, Gabriel knows how to handle himself in a figth, whether it be hand to hand, firefight, or just getting th hell away from whoever wants him dead.

History: Born into the dregs of the post apocalyptic civilization, things such as family, friends, and community are foriegn concepts. Raised by nomadic survivors, Gabriel grew to cherish only one thing in life. Survival at all costs. Stealing, scavenging, killing, all these were acceptable means of doing so. Whether for food, water, suplies, equipment, shelter, or merely self defense, there was no limits to what the pack would do to survive. Including to one another.

This was his life for 24 years. Death was no stranger, whether it was from sickness, a knife in the dark, or an accident. Then came the first settlement. the pack wasn't allowed in, for the inhabitants thought it would be a bad idea, and would only lead to theft, murder, and chaos. Which they were probably right. But Gabriel was fascinated by it. The people, their lives. Here were folks who didn't kill each other over a skin of water. Who wern't forced to go for a week with barely enough food to sustain a rabbit. And so when the pack finally moved off, giving up on getting inside the town, Gabriel stayed. For weeks he roamed the edges, always refused entrance. It would take the voice and hand of a little girl to grant him acceptance.

Gabriel had been outside, watching, as usual. He hadn't noticed the small child sneaking up on him. Children were hard to spot little critters sometimes. But the next thing he knew, the smal lgirl, perhaps ten, maybe younger, was sitting there beside him, watching and smiling at him. Hesitant at first, Gabriel was soon convinced to talk, finding himself entranced by the girl's childish nature and optimism. He had never seen its like. A good hour later, he was led into town, in tow of the girl (whose name was Cecilia, she had said) much to the outrage and fear of the townspeople. Needless to sya, he wasn't accepted all that quickly. But in time, Gabriel became one of them, another survivor, helping to rebuild what they once had.

But it would not last. It would be another year and a half before the next pack came through. But these were different. There was no talk of entering town peacefully and such. These came with weapons, and vehicles. The tore through the town like the vikings of old, killing everyone they could find, taking women and girls for their own, pillaging, and torching it all. Gabriel fought as well as he could, but in the end all he could do was survive. With a growing lust for revenge, he once more became the wanderer. He cares nothing for the Slarmanians, nor any other faction. His hatred is for the oppressors and the beasts. The would be tyrants and the heartless murderers.

I'm not going to start the first post, just post your character and post your actual rping, I'll follow then next person or two.

He had been tracking this man for days now. Not to kill him and take what he might have on him, but simply because he was curious, as he was about near anything. From the branch of the tree which he was hidden in, he peered down at this lean, brown-haired man, studying him, whilst in one hand he twirled a small metal object around absently. Abruptly a faint giggle passed between the mans lips, but he quickly stanched it by clasping his free hand over his mouth. Hmm... Should he kill this man now, or keep studying him. It seemed he was more on a mission, than a simple scavenger, and he wanted to find out what that mission was...

[OOC]Name: Gamis

Age: 33

Physical characteristics: As with most other scavengers, his body is thin, but with lean, though sculpted muscles, designed for endurance more than brute strength. Dispite living in the wilderness most of his life, His skin only has a light tan to it. Wide, raven black eyes peer left and right, constantly on alert, and dark, shoulderlength hair is matted atop his head. His clothing consists of a long-sleeved, dark shirt covered by a simple, dark jacket, and similar coloured leggings, and due to bieng barefoot his entire life, his feet are calloused heavily, allowing him to walk far quieter than someone with shoes, and still be able to travel over rough terrain. What looks like the hilt of a dagger of some sort is tucked into his trousers, and no other weapons are visible on his form.

Equipment: Basic rations (dried fruit, water) Enough for another weeks travelling or so. A 'zippo' lighter, without any fluid, A collectors dagger, though sharpened to make an efficient weapon (Curved blade, 8 inch, single-edged) A hunters knife (straight-edged, 6 inch blade, Straight blade on one side, serrated edge on the other) Basic scavenged items (random keys to no lock, spoons, the hide of a possum etc...) He keeps most of his basic items wrapped in that possum-hide, drawn together with a piece of string.

Abilities and skills: When it pleases him, Gamis can become near indetectable, he is the master of stealth, and seems to know exactly the best place to hide. Though he is without gun or projectile weapon, he is skilled at hunting, as he can sneak up to within a couple feet of even a watchful rabbit, and pounce on it. He is also adept at tracking, bieng able to spot out even the smallest sign of something. His eyes are always watchful and alert, and it is difficult for this man to be trapped without him knowing of it. He isnt all that good at confronting fighting, but he knows what it takes when it comes to slipping a dagger between the ribs from someones back.

History: Gamis was born to nobody. Or thats what he believes - In actuality, he was a child of rape, during one of the many raids in this new, savage world. As soon as he was born, his mother left him in the wilderness to be slaughtered by beast or scavenger, but luckily for him, he was found by a man who did not want to kill him, but rather nurtured him, taught him of their new life and how to survive in it. He taught the child how to speak, read and write, but by the time Gamis was eight, this unnamed 'father' was killed, slaughtered over a piece of meat.Gamis did not mind, though, after all, he had been taught that that was the way of the world, and so he left, wandered the wilderness.

Some twenty years later, he had formed a life for himself, of sorts. He was a loner, never travelling in groups and hunting for his own survival. He kept the knowledge of speak with him, but he rarely used it, instead living on his own animal instincts. Gamis IS half-insane, his animalistic urges have caused him to be quite eccentric when around other people. He had never been shown any friendship or love thoughout his life, and as a result, he does not give these. Recently, however, he has altered his lifestyle by studying some of the fellow wanderers, seeing how they act. He has found these people quite intriguing.[/OOC]

Gamis gave the empty lighter one last twirl in his dextrous hands before tucking it in his pocket. After some moments hesitation, he then leapt from the tree he was in, landing softly on the ground with nothing but the faintest of 'thuds', and began stalking after this 'dark-skinned, lean and taut' man, one hand clasped comfortingly over the hilt of his collectors dagger.

Gabriel wandered through the ruins of Paris, he had traveled in France for the past month. He really didn't have a purpose to his wandering, just wandering. Looking for the next food source, the next shelter to sleep in. Gabriel was a true scavenger, like most people who wandered the barren world. Hardly any life to be seen, or made note of for that fact. But the world was so very dark now, dust clouds still lingered in the skies, though most dissapated before, enough was around to block the sun from sight from many places. Dampening it's holy rays.

Gabriel was currently in a small courtyard, filled with a few trees, most of which looked very bad. But he knew better than to stay in an open field for too long, it could prove fatal. So he moved on, he walked along the desimated streets. Picking out a building not quite completely destroyed, Gabriel wandered in. The first thing he noticed was the pile of money on the ground, useless now. He wandered how such a thing could have been used for a type of currency. Gabriel had learned much at the small village he once lived in. But thoughts of that seemingly distant past only brought anger and tears to his eyes, so he quickly shut them out.

This place was once a small general store, though all the useful items had already been extracted, or so it seemed. A big hole was knocked out in the left side wall, big enough for a man to fit through, there was dust everywhere, and small debris everywhere. There was a counter and several empty shelves, as well as two back doors. Gabriel walked around the counter, the shelves below it were empty as well, but where one should have been, there was a piece of wood. Any other man would have passed it without a second look. But Gabriel was someone who could get into anything, obvious or not. Gabriel didn't want to kick it in, which would make noise, he had an eerie feeling someone was watching him, and it's quite possible that there were others in the city. So Gabriel pulled out a small pry bar, and another thin ruler sized piece of metal. He sat down and went to work, only taking his time as to create as little noise as possible.

Physcial Characteristics: Luedast is a medium height man of 5'8", with a medium build and forgetable brown hair and hazelnut eyes. As with any kid who grew up during the war he was thin and but muscled. Luedast has no remarkable scars of any amazing features, he isn't ugly but not really noteworthy either. Anyone who has seen him would have a hard time remembering Luedast. Luedast wears a paramilitary jumpsuit and a black overcoat.

Equipment: M-15 Bushwacker Sniper Rifle, 2 clips of ammunition, Colt .45 with compressor(a compressor is a barrel attachement like a muzzle of a Howlitzer but for a pistol making it more accurate but more likely to jam.), 2 .45 clips, combat boots, MI-6 Watch.

History/Skillz: Luedast is the son of an MI-6 agent and a Russian counter insurangcy agent who met during the war when the MI-6 operative was caught the same counter insurgancy agent. The Russian woman Misha pittied the agent, Clark, together the made their escape to neutral Switzerland. Where they raised Luedast fearing what the world was coming to the trained him too. Clark was an MI-6 assasin/sniper and Misha an expert in countering sniper tactics. Trained in both arts Luedast is a surehand and deadshot, not to mention that both agents were also famialiar with computer sabotage, evasion/infiltration tactics, and some unarmed combat skills, along with efficiancy in most weapons and eplosives. Luedast adventualy left home to try to help in this chaotic world after his parents died at a young age from radiation poisoning which miraclously didn't pass onto to Luedast.

Present Day: Luedast lived a blessed childhood during the war with his parents, he feels guilty that his parents decided to hide in such a great time of need. With nothing left for him at home but an empty house Luedast headed out into an unsuspecting world to help those that can't help themselves. A modern day ranger of sorts. Luedast never spent more than a few days in one spot. Now he roams the old borders of France outside Paris.[/OOC]

The girl watched the man from her hiding spot in the corner. She didn't know him. Didn't matter. She didn't really know what he was up to, but she didn't care. She just wanted him to leave. This place was Mouse's. Mouse's house. The house of Mouse. What was more than one house? Hice? More than one mouse was mice. But there was only one Mouse. She stood motionless, waiting for the man to go away. Sometimes, people came in, and didn't want to leave, and then Mouse couldn't sleep. Then Mouse had to make them go. She was getting good at that.

---------------------------------[OOC]Name: MouseAge: 8Physical Characteristics: Mouse is a small, skinny child, with dark, perpetually tangled hair. She's stronger than she looks, and is very fast. (That's how she stays alive.) She has a tendency to blend into her surroundings when she stands very still, due to her size. She wears torn, dirty clothes that are much too big for her, which have lots of little places for tucking small objects, of which she has many. She carries small bits of rock, pottery, glass, pretty much anything that catches her attention (including a faded American Express card she found). She also has a largish hunting knife that she lifted from a corpse and a slingshot, both of which she knows how to use well. Her tiny size and general daffy behavior usually leads to people underestimating her; this is good. Mostly they leave her alone, and when they don't, Mouse has an edge.

History: Mouse was born into a band of scavengers. It is possible that her mother suffered from some remnants of radiation poisoning; Mouse was born mute and slightly... unbalanced. She kept away from the others, playing her own games with herself and imaginary companions. She survived because she could always run faster than people who might want to kill her, and she never seemed to have anything worth taking. When she was five, the band she lived with was massacred by another band. Mouse and two others survived. They stayed together, until one night when Mouse slipped away. She knew how to find food, and how to stay away from the threats. She learned how to use a knife in a way that her size would permit. Then she found an abandoned town, and took up residence in one of the buildings. When she gets bored, or when there's nothing she values left, she'll move on.

Mouse has never had a friend, save her imaginary playmates, creatures only she could see. Still, she might join with others, for she simply does not realize she should fear them.[/OOC]

Luedast walked down an utterly deserted road that expanses of the french countryside Luedast had seen in books are vibrant greens plush with nature were devoid of life. A city laid ahead of him, Paris, the capital of the old country of France seemed eerie.

From here it looked deserted, a ghost town, almost, he passed rubble heaps of old outlying houses, and old blackened frames of office buildings. Luedast found them unnerving he walked down the block and noticed an old grocercy store with a hole in the back. He the clattering of metal and Luedast pulled out his pistol, he eased around the corner he saw the man there, "Hail?" Luedast called to him.

The sounds of hoofbeats ring on the cracked street, the unmistakable ring of iron on concrete. Just one, though accompanied by the sound of walking boots. The best way to draw out the kind of men she wanted was to challenge them, and this was a signal of wealth. A mount, and men.

She'd wandered far, and fought hard to gain these few followers. They would suffice for her beginning. She would conquer, and she would begin here, for she was The Khan. Hm. A man, a gun, a hundred feet down the road. One already on the alert... For something else. A hand signal, a tug on the reins of her beast, and her whole troop comes to silence.

--Name: Erzebet KhanAge: 24

Physical: A short, darkly colored woman with short, knife-cropped black hair, her body muscled relatively heavily. Her clothing is hard brown horse-hide, and beneath, a silken shirt can barely be seen. At her side is a long, sharpened calvary saber, while a short, curved bit of wood, the ends tied by a sinew cord is attached at the front of her saddle, two dozen matching arrows in a sheaf at the beast's hip.

History: On the outer plains of Mongolia, the collapse of civilization meant surprisngly little: A harsh life only got harsher as the outside comforts stopped coming in. As time passed, old nomadic ways were eventually remembered, and not the least of them was raiding. This is the environment Erzebet was born into. The first true-born daughter of the leader of a strong tribe, and his only child, she was taught to fight and ride from an early age. Unfortunately for her, there came the time when her tribe was defeated in battle, having migrated from the lower steps to the richer lands of eastern Europe: She fled westwards on horseback, bleeding from a wound on her forehead. The wound was one that festered, the fever settling deep into her mind, a fever that revealed her destiny to her. She would crush this western continent.

And now, she has begun her plan, having won the respect of a band of highwaymen by slaughtering over half of them. Once held by fear, they have fallen sway to her passionate ravings, half mad with terror and rapture.

Gamis walked silently on behind Gabrielle, constantly ducking behind what shelter he could hide behind in case the man took cause to look back. Once the man entered the building, Gamis halted at the entrance, pausing for now to ponder how best to work with this situation. He took the time to give a quick sniff in the building, then quirked his nostrils in distate - the smell of mildew and rot was heavy in there. His ears promptly quirked on the sound of metal etching against wood, and he turned quickly to peer into the building, to see what the man was doing. It was at this time that Luedast promtly called out 'hail', and Gamis, without missing a beat, slipped inside the grocery store and ducked beneath a counter - He was fairly sure that that person who called out had not seen him, and may have even been talking to the other person, and so he remains behind this counter for the moment, until he can gain a better bearing on who is nearby, and the threat they may cause. Killing one person is easy enough, but with another to look out, its far more difficult.

Mouse frowned. This was getting not good. Why did all these people have to come here? She wanted them to go away. But three... she didn't know if she could make all three go away. She looked at the man hiding behind the counter. Silly man. Mouse sees him. There you are! Mouse saw everything that happened in her house. One of her playmates drifted over. Not now, playmate! Mouse must watch these men. They were in her house. She saw them, but they didn't see Mouse. They all watched each other, and Mouse watched them. She wondered if any of them had any pretties. She could see some shiny things. They had knives too, but Mouse didn't need another knife. She already had one. Maybe they would drop one of their pretties when they left. Maybe they had come for Mouse's pretties. Oh no! They couldn't have Mouse's pretties! They were Mouse's! She watched them closer.

"Hey, I'm not here to hurt you, umm whoever you are." Luedast stopped soemthing was different here. He knelt down there were footprints in the ground, little foot prints like those of a child. He heard a clinking noise and looked up a woman or was it he only saw a fleeting gimpse. She was on a beast, a horse he thought.

Luedast leaned around the broken window and looked inside, "Hello? I'm the good guy come on!" He still kept the .45 in a firm grip never didn't pay to not be too careful.

A second gesture of her hand, and her troop disperses, scattering into the alleyways even as she spins her mount, clopping into one of those dark alleyways. A fleeting glimpse indeed. Stealth, silence. A guard for her horse as she slips through the shattered streets on foot. Careful now, get the count. One. A signal of two. No. Instinct says that's not right. There's too much tension here. Her sword half jumps to her hand as Luedast proclaims himself the good guy. Wonderful. Prey. She and her men will need silence, stealth, intelligence to take those firearms. Time for her to play the waiting game, to stay mobile as she does it. Hm, a shattered window into the building.

Gamis gave a quick snort of laughter at Luedasts proclaimation that he was 'the good guy', but he quickly stanched it. Hmm... He wondered if anyone heard that laughter... no matter if they did, he would still work with it. All the same, his hand absently lowers into his pocket, and he withdraws that lighter, mindlessly twirling it in his hand whilst he closes his eyes, allowing his other senses to take over. His ears - hightened to their maximum sensitivity due to years of living in the wilderness - catch even the faintest sounds, from the wind ruffling bits of paper through the hole in the wall, to the scurrying of rodents. Just because his eyes were closed does not mean he is absent to his surroundings - though it may appear that way to others.

Mouse watched the man behind the counter. Silly man had gone to sleep. Silly man has a thing. Is it a thing Mouse wants? It's pretty. Maybe Mouse will take the thing from Silly Man. Oh no! More peoples coming to Mouse's house! Why won't they just leave her alone with her playmates? She was getting angry. Peoples had no right to come into Mouse's house! It was Mouse's, not theirs, until Mouse was done with it. She can see peoples sneaking around by the window. Mouse sees everything that goes on in her house. She can see them through the window. The last person who came here broke the window. He had a thing that made a bang, and made someone fall down. Mouse made him go away. Too noisy. But there are a lot of people at Mouse's house. She can't make them all go way. Maybe Mouse should leave, and find a quieter house. No. These people would go away. They couldn't have her house. They couldn't have her pretties. Specially not the Blue Thing. The Blue Thing was Mouse's, forever.

Eyes meet for the briefest seconds, madness seeing madness. As she suddenly ducks beneath the sill of the window, the Great Khan smiles to herself, though she does not chuckle. That makes three. At least one of which shouldn't be a threat to her. Maybe even something she can train, can use. A gesture, and one of her men starts trying to silently climb the rusted remnants of a fire escape. Just a floor, that's all he'll need to provide effective cover fire. A plan is starting to take its shape. But how to deal with the girl?

Luedast walked over to the the door and opened it carefuly he stepped carefully through the door and walked donw the empty isles, no food d**n.

Luedast eased up to the counter and stepped aside so the barrel of the rifle strapped to his back, didn't catch on the shelf, he leaned over the counter with the gun held in a two hand grip slighty out infront of him, "Ok man stand up nice and slow."

Gabriel already had his gun out when the man entered the room. Gabriel thought it was just him and this new guy, But when he realized that the man was directing his words to another, Gabriel started forming a plan.

Gabriel stopped what he was doing and picked up his tools and put them back in his pack. Then crawled over to the end of the counter to peek out. When he saw the two, he began thinking of what to do.

d**nit, this shouldn't of happened. Oh well, I've gotten out of a hostile camp without a single shot, let's try it.

A wide smirk came over Gabriel's face as he remembered the past occurrence. He remembered his trick well, but didn't know how well it would work in this situation.

Gabriel stood up, gun pointed to the man with the gun. Gabriel position himself alongside the counter so he could see both people.

"Stop, don't turn or make and sudden movements. You, with the gun, drop it on the floor. Then kick it over towards me, and don't even think about pointing the end of that gun towards me, before you could get off a shot, I'll have three in your chest. And you, stay where you are, and DON'T move. Now do IT!"

Gabriel stood his ground, he hoped the man would prove smart, he only hoped the other person on the ground didn't have a gun...

Gamis's ever-darting eyes had picked up the sight of Gabrielle as he peeked over the counter. He was not at all worried by Luedast, and stalled for time. Once Gabrielle was half-way between his speech, however, Gamis moved.

He did not leap up and put himself in the line of fire. Instead, he darted one hand up to snatch onto the barrel of Luedast's sniper rifle, then he pulled with all his might. Though Gamis may seem thin and reedy, he has a bit of muscle in him, and the force of this pull would most likely either dislodge the weapon from Luedast's hands, or send Luedast flying over to the other side of the counter - since he was already bent over it and thus slightly off balance for it. Not a word has been said by Gamis, but he does have a particuarly insane grin upon his features

One voice. Two voices. The girl. The Great Khan can't see into the window from where she crouches, she'll have to assume that's all there is. Two warriors, the men sound like. At best, she might only get one of them. One of them, and, the dark haired woman grins suddenly, savagely. She wants that mouse for a pet. No! There's three, and they're struggling!

Five against one, then, perhaps two. Yes. She and her men can take them. Are they worth the effort? They're out armed.. But having a gun, and better yet, a man who can use it well... Yes, that will be valuable on its own. The signal she gives now is no signal, the signal to wait, watch, lurk, hide.

OOC: Hey I'm a pointing the pistol at you Shadow, the sniper is strapped to my back. The counter could have been like one ofthe ones that has one part that open up to get behind it. You could have reached under it and grabbed the rifle from there? I'm not sure.

Luedast stumbled a bit as the guy he was aiming at brabbed his rifle and yanked Luedast down into a crouch, when the wiry little figure tried to the big rifle off Luedast's back he frogleaped backwards loosening the emanciated man's grip on the gun. Luedast tumbled back into the isle out of the firing path of the other man.

Luedast landed on his back the butt of his rifle jabbed into his back, Luedast cursed and rolled onto his stomach and brough his gun aimed back at the counter.

OOC: Sorry luke, thought you were aiming the rifle In that case he grabbed the barrel of Luedast's pistol.

Gamis wasted no time, as soon as Luedast stumbled back, he performed a quick roll from the counter, counting on the distraction of the man to make his hasty escape. He basically skitters back out the door before raising back upright and planting his back against the outer wall of the building, waiting to hear the reaction of those inside. After perhaps a second, he spares a quick glance around the immediate area... and spots a female outside, near a window of the building. So many people! This was getting quite out of hand for him. Well, there was little else he could do, so he simply withdrew his dagger, and stared warily at the woman.

No, this shouldn't be happening. Mouse could tell what was going on, and sooner or later, one of the men would break one of Mouse's things. And she thought that the woman outside had seen her. But the men were watching each other. Maybe Mouse could do something. She'd have to be careful. If she was careful, they wouldn't chase her. Hmm. There were some things up on a shelf above them. Maybe they were heavy. She pulled her slingshot out of a pocket. Where was a rock? There was one, in her other pocket! Aim careful, make it bounce of the wall. Snap-crack! The rock bounced and hit one of the things. It teetered on the edge of the shelf, then fell. Maybe it would hit one of them. Maybe Silly Man.

(OOC: I leave it to someone else to determine what she knocked off and if it does indeed hit someone.)

Luedast rose slowly to his knees when something knocked above him and a large plastic cooler tipped over spilling some aged fouls contents all over Luedast. It stank horribly.

"YUCK!" Luedast shouted and grabbed an old rag to wash off his face. Once he got the disgusting liquid out of his face, he tasted it in his mouth, hmm. It was pretty tasty actually, Luedast looked at it some more, "I'll be d**ned it's jam."

Luedast holstered his gun and tried another sip of the sticky tasty jam, "Hmm I think it's rasberry or strawberry.."

Physical Characteristics: Etienne is an old man. He had been getting a bit pudgy around the middle, but the wasteland has carved all the extra from him. He looks as scrawny as a sapling in mid-winter...Or he would, if there were such a thing as winter anymore. He was always rather short, but with age he has become downright diminutive. He has pale blue eyes and strong white teeth. His pate is circled by a corona of feathery white hair. His nose has been broken several times, wherefore it is slightly crooked. He wears a ragged and stained white dress shirt, a black down vest, and dirty cargo pants in which he carries what little equipment he has. He usually leans on a length of PVC pipe which he uses as a walking staff. He has managed to keep his humor about him (He believes that it is all that keeps him sane) and so his eyes twinkle with a slight mirth.

Equipment: Cracked Ray-Ban sunglasses, a Swiss Army knife, feather-down vest, small biscuits, picture of his wife and his son (both dead), batteries (just in case), key to a tenement building.

Abilities/skills: Etienne was a man of the Pre-War France. He hadn't much in the way of survival skills, but now he gets by. He can do pretty well for himself in the limited area of Paris in which he now operates. The only skill that Etienne ever really prided himself on was his painting, and thus far, that hasn't helped him out much in the wasteland. He can, however, swing that PVC staff of his with enough force to drive off wild dogs.

History: There is not much to say about Etienne Moncrief. He was a French citizen. He was a banker. He lived in a small apartment in Paris with his wife. His son had died in the War. His wife died soon after from radiation poisoning. He is still alive. That is really all he cares to remember.He lives in a derelict tenement near the apartment he one lived in. Nearby there is a source of fresh water, God knows where it comes from, and a tree that he has found can be relied upon to produce peaches, tiny and shriveled and crackly-tasting though they may be, that can sate his hunger. He also found a store of good dough a while ago, and thus has made himself some small hardtack biscuits.Etienne loves to laugh. Humor, he believes, is all that has kept him sane and alive in the ruins of Paris. If it were not for the ability to laugh, he would long ago have been food for some cannibals or wild dogs.So, that is all there is. Etienne is. Etienne was. Etienne is still going.

Ho Ho! So that's the victor, or at least the freeman, of the moment. The woman's voice is strong, powerful, as she commands, "Put the knife away. The Great Khan is not here to take your life, quiet little man." Above, there is the sound of a bow stretching to tension, yet no arrow is released just yet.

She takes one step forwards, pausing, before she takes another. "She might have a use for a man whos eyes can pick her out of shadow like this, yes. A man who can walk without boots, quietly, yes."